Dye Them Incarnadine
by waterlit
Summary: Death is hardly the greatest tragedy: five unsung women. Lenalee, Anita, Lulubell, Chomesuke and Fou.


Disclaimer: I own nothing! (:

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**Dye Them Incarnadine**

Or, the tragedies that stick.

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I.

[Chomesuke]

She will not last past the moon's reign. When the grey dawn creeps up the sky, she will long have vanished into dreary dust and dark matter best forgotten. Then again, she's never liked grey dawns, and so there is little need for her to rally round the scarce pool of hope and hope for salvation.

(Because salvation is a dream that lurks with forked-tongue and flashing lashes at the end of hope.)

The air smells like rain, and she drinks deep of it with arms twisted around each other, hoping that the level threes will not discover their hiding spot among battered tiles and falling doors. She has never liked the spring rain either.

Oh, the spring rains were cold at her death, falling with merry music upon the mounds of earth that kept her warm. She would scarce have opportunity to leave the hallowed place, but for the ill-intentioned faltering cry that pulled her back from her long rest amidst the good and the glad.

_April is the cruellest month. _

Then he came, he of the flaming red hair, like a breeze in the dark dusk, and he relieved her of the gnawing bloodlust.

_For a time._

She knows she cannot expect pity, for creatures – such as she – are wont to die without mercy.

But for now, she can laugh at the curling breath of the hapless cold rain and rue the day her sister mourned for her. And perhaps, blaspheme the god who condones the sin-sedged formation (_same old, same old_) of the living dead, before she meets her long-awaited end in the darkness of paradise lost.

II.

[Lulu Bell]

With dark claws she slashes her father and creeps-slinks-makes her way out of her hidden abode.

To dwell in long sorrow,

For this is where (and how) the sinners go.

/Meow meow the cat yowls/

_He_ finds her in the dark ravines beneath the towering, encircling mountains. (She was broken then, a skeletal waif, eyes wild and hair unkempt, and above all, a threat to travellers' safety.) He picks her up and cradles her and feeds her with dusty fire. And she revives, gains flesh, grows tall and strong and beautiful and becomes Lulu, whose bell tinkles on her fur-lined neck.

When the milk comes a-calling, she laps the joy up and decides that maybe, sin isn't so bad after all. Maybe, just maybe with a teeny weeny finger of cream on top, she was born to paint misdeeds.

III.

[Anita]

She hangs on the gallows, swinging to and fro, and knows that her slim hands cannot dither on the wavering pendulum much longer.

Here comes the age of dilemmas.

_To be or not to be, that is the question – _

But mayhap, it is more a question of who she wants to be. The dutiful loving daughter, with hands upon the urn that hold her sweet mother's ashes, or the loving, faithful lover, sighing and languishing in curtained rooms while awaiting her lord's return.

_Why does the sun go on shining – _

The clouds seldom gather, and the bright sunny places are saddening to her. He whom she loves is far from this beautiful land, and she cannot look upon the sun-drizzled meres and light-dappled leaves without reliving the stab through her heart that's shattered her world at his lambasted departure.

The clock ticks on, and she wonders, draping feathered gauze over lamps. _When will it all end?_

IV.

[Fou]

_What passing bells for those who die as cattle?_

_What made me pick Walker back? _She wonders about time and again, as she sifts through her thoughts and burnishes memory in the darkness before dawn. The silence creeps up on her, and she feels a tinge of annoyance snake itself into her eyes.

Hers is a lonely lot for the most part; a thankless job, ignored, avoided, forgotten – utterly, desperately so. Who shall know the horrors of the dark creatures that lurk beneath the castle walls, who shall feel the heating pulse in lifeless veins that tremble at the slightest approach, who shall experience the surge of power at the expectation of frivolous battle, but she who has walked upon the long and perilous road?

_The shadows, the shadows_ -

Sometimes, she thinks that it might be a blessing to be anything but human. For a curse is laid on all who walk under the sun with the legs of Man, and the Earl sweeps his decaying breath over all the putrid lands and sad wastes. Who will mourn the living when they die, who, who, unless it be her?

V.

[Lenalee]

She is and isn't, all at once.

The months fly by on the wings of the wind, and she watches the petals fall in the bosom of lonely autumn. The skies are gray at night, and the trees seldom speak but sigh all day, and Allen retreats further and further into his shell and consorts with the Fourteenth's memory.

Kanda is deadly quiet and even Lavi fades into the walls, turning translucent with every glance. Lenalee tosses her worries each night, adding a dash of concern and a slip of pain now and then, and wonders, perhaps, if the Order will soon fall to the dead and the dark.

When winter drapes itself over the quiet lands, it's all she can do to fly from the cage and attack with reckless fury.

But she doesn't, for she knows their danger. But, oh!

_Too pretty, dreamlike mimicry_

The hurts she has seen saw themselves across her heart, and she prays for redemption for her sins. For to tarry amid the chaos is a sin in her heart of hearts, and she wishes that she isn't who she is and that she is who she isn't, all at once.

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A/N: Ahhh. I liked this! It was fun writing this (: If you noticed, I stuck in bits and pieces of lines of poetry here and there, taken from famous poems. The lines were taken from The Waste Land (T.S. Eliot), Shakespeare, Anthem For Doomed Youth (Wilfred Owen) and The Armadillo (Elizabeth Bishop). Awesome poems, imo heh.

I've always wanted to write a many people kind of fic. Like this one. So yay (:

Right. I just wanted to mention this here: this will be my last fic till sept/oct. From now on, I will be going on a writing hiatus to study for my prelims and then finals. Thank you very much to those of you who have been reading about everything I've written and reviewing all the time even if maybe deep down you didn't really think much of what I wrote. Thanks! I'm sure you know who you are (: I will miss you all over the next few months heh.

Yeah, well, that's about it. Reviews would be much appreciated (:


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